The best you can be
by SunlightinMidnight22
Summary: The story of the real reason Sam joined the army. Written from her point of view about her life before Afghanistan. Contains mild references to drugs and a small section of self-harming.
1. Chapter 1 A day in the life of Hell

Hi everyone, this is my first chapter of my first FanFiction.

Hope you enjoy!

Sam's thoughts are in italics.

Please read and review, and if you notice any mistakes, please correct me as I'm hopeless at proof reading! :D

**Be the best you can be**

**Chapter 1- A day in the life of hell**

It wasn't even the thought of school that made me groan at seven o'clock every morning. It was merely having to prove my existence in this world and drag my useless weight into society. I lay awake, last night's make-up still heavily painted on my face. Suddenly the memory of yesterday came flooding back as I caught sight of the open wound slashed across my forearm and the blood-stained pillow that used to be a crisp white. That familiar lump grew in my throat as I put on my average clothes in my average bedroom. Nothing special, that was what my life was.

I headed downstairs to what seemed like an abandoned shack. The wallpaper ached as it slowly fell to shreds and the cold air hugged my faded jeans. I slipped though the kitchen door, only slightly ajar. Mum was already there, draped over her luke-warm cup of coffee. I cleared away yesterday's paper and saw the broken glass sitting at the base of the bin. My eyes slowly wandered to the cut on my arm and then to the floor. I established that the memory was too painful to dwell on; I had never seen Mum so mad. Ever since Dad left, I was waiting for the breakdown, she had done well as a single mother until yesterday. I awoke from my thoughts, still gazing blindly at the floor. I closed the bin and with it, the thought of yesterday.

"I'll see you soon, Sam," Mum called as I picked up my school bag.

"Yeah, see you," I replied, my voice not quite able to become louder than a whisper. Our eyes met in an awkward stance and I gave her a hesitant kiss, not sure if she deserved it. I left through the front door and began the walk to school.

School was school, not much more to be said. I study art and design, I was never gifted with academic talents and I still wasn't sure that I was gifted with artistic ability. We had recently had a new teacher and that idea had never appealed to me, I've always hated change. However, Miss Watkins had immediately set a good tone in the classroom and for that I was grateful. She sat down with me that lesson and leaned over my portfolio, we talked for what felt like hours. I tried so hard to fight the fact that I wasn't in a 'creative' mood, hoping she couldn't read me but secretly knowing that she could. We finished talking and just as I was relieved she hadn't said anything, Miss Watkins brushed her arm against mine. I lunged forward suddenly from the sharp pain running through the gash in my arm. I let out the breath I had been holding onto for too long. After I had composed myself, I looked up and saw the vast sea of worried, staring faces including Miss Watkins's. Despite being bombarded with questions: "What's going on Sam?", "Are you alright?" my voice had shrunk into that whisper again. My fight or flight instinct kicked in and without a word I ran to the toilets down the corridor, praying I wouldn't be followed.

_Drat_ I thought to myself, _why had I forgot to bandage this up this morning?_ The cubicles in the toilets were as bland as my mood. I began to unbutton my blue, now bloody blouse, too busy to realise the tears filling my eyes until it obstructed my vision. Then I merely perched myself on the toilet seat, beginning to notice the bruising on my chest and torso. I heard a quiet but unmistakeable voice accompanied by a small knock on my cubicle door.

"Can I come in?" It was Miss Watkins's voice with its slight accent. I quickly began to button up my blouse as I reached forward to the lock. I twisted the knob but couldn't find the extra strength to pull the door open. She came in anyway, immediately setting eyes on my red-spotted sleeve.

"What happened?" she asked with more of a serious tone to her voice now. I made an excuse that I had caught my arm on the side of a kitchen cupboard at home and hadn't had a chance to bandage it up yet. Just at that moment, the bell rang and I could hear the voices of my classmates. I gazed up as if in search of the noise when I realised Miss Watkins's gaze had moved to the missed button on my blouse. _Shit, the bruises._ My hands fell to my stomach and casually covered the gap in the blue fabric. That's when her soft hands took mine and guided me back to the art department.

Thankfully there was a first aid kit in the art room. Miss Watkins sat me down in my normal seat and propped my arm up onto the table.

"Maybe you can explain to me how this really happened? Sam?" she asked as she cut a length of bandage long enough for my arm.

"Honestly, Miss Watkins,' I replied hoping the appropriate answer would come to me eventually. "The kitchen cupboard hasn't been sanded down in a while; I was just clumsy and stupid." She finished tying up my bandage and offered to drive me home. I declined her offer and began to head for the door. I could still feel her stare on my shoulders, weighing me down like a balloon under bricks. I closed the door behind be and was relieved to be making my way home.

I was constantly thinking of excuses to explain my bruising away. _Did Miss Watkins even notice them?_ My key clicked in the front door. I already knew I had to cook for myself and go to bed alone. That's the way I liked it most of the time. I was starving already, so I headed to the kitchen and opened the cupboard I supposedly 'cut' myself on last night. A couple of bags of rice fell out onto the floor and as I looked down, I noticed that one was misshapen. I was secretly hoping that it contained that large sum of money we desperately needed, but that's what they call 'wishful thinking'. In fact, it was very wishful thinking. Instead I found small packets of a fine white powder. Heroin.

The thought of Mum being on drugs didn't bother me much. Maybe she was high yesterday and it wasn't really her that broke Grandma's vase and threw it at me. Perhaps it wasn't her who pushed me down the stairs last night because I 'wasn't the daughter she wanted'. I didn't want an action replay of yesterday's events, so I took the drugs and slipped them into the back pocket of my bag.

I turned to leave the kitchen, finding myself no longer hungry when I saw a small piece of paper with my name on it. My phone began to buzz in my pocket; the note would have to wait. 'Unknown number' appeared on my home screen, but I picked it up anyway.

"Hello? Are you a relative of Charlotte Nicholls?" It was a young female voice. "Yeah" I replied. _Mum?_ _She had named me after herself, Samantha Charlotte Nicholls._

"I'm calling from Holby City ED, Charlotte Nicholls has been in an accident and this is the only contact we have for her..." My mind went blank and my brain refused to maintain the rest of the information. I looked for bus money and slumped my way out of the door.

That night was hell. I spend four hours in A and E and intensive care until my Mum was pronounced dead. They never concluded the whole reasoning for her death or how her car ended up in the bottom of that ditch. The drugs seemed to crop up in my mind, _was she high when she was driving? Did she have another load of heroin somewhere else?_ It was strange, despite the fact that my own mother had just died, I was not sad or worried or lonely. Perhaps I was heartless just as she used to describe my father. This day had been one of the longest days of my life. A day in the life of hell.


	2. Chapter 2 Home is where the heart is

**Chapter 2- Home is where the heart is**

On my way out of the ED, I caught sight of a small poster pinned to a patient notice board.

'**Become an army medic and be the best you can be!' **The bold slogan with its blood red writing stood off from a camouflaged background. _Maybe_ I said to myself _maybe one day._

Luckily, Social Services hadn't caught on to my mother's death. Apparently she had never mentioned me in her will or any records. The thought of yesterday played up in my mind again. Her yelling and my begging her to stop. The crash of the glass and the pain of the shards as they imbedded into my skin. _Someone as heartless as me can handle being alone._

The key clicked in the front door once again and in one breath, I was inside. I proceeded to the kitchen as the weight of the drugs in my bag became apparent. I pulled out the small packets of powder from my bag and sat down at the kitchen table. I noticed the small calendar hanging up by the fridge with the words 'Home is where the heart is' written across it. I laughed. It was strange really, laughing without anyone there to hear it.

"Home is where the heart is," I repeated to myself "If you have one that is," I laughed again.

Ten minutes floated by and I grew sick of staring at the heroin. As I got up to leave, something fell from the table. It landed too lightly to be one of the packets. _The note_. I had completely forgotten about the note addressed to me that I'd seen before I got the call from the ED. I unfolded the tiny piece of paper.

'**Life's too short and I'm full of excuses.**

**I'm sorry to leave you this way. **

**You just weren't the daughter I expected you to be'**

_What?... This is a suicide note._


	3. Chapter 3 An unknown name

**Chapter 3- An unknown name and a familiar sign**

_What the hell does that mean? I wasn't the daughter she was expecting me to be? This is sick, it's totally sick. My mum committed suicide... because of me? _

My mobile began to buzz again and I awoke from my nightmare of a daydream.

"Hello?" I said, a bit more forcefully than I anticipated.

"Yes, Hello. We spoke earlier about your mother and her... accident," _Yeah, but it wasn't much of an 'accident' was it? "_I'm so sorry for your loss but we've just come across a few unsigned records, so would you mind popping in and signing them, Leah?"

"Leah? My name is Sam...well, Samantha." I questioned.

"Oh, it says here in your mother's records that her family contact is her daughter, Leah."

"No, that must be a mistake, I'm her only daughter and my name is Sam. But sure, I'll come in and sign whatever."

I just wasn't even bothered, I just wanted the ED to leave me alone, and I've always hated hospitals. I hung up the phone and grabbed my keys._ Here we go again._

I arrived at Holby City ED 15 minutes after the call and a young face greeted me. I signed the records with my messy signature and was about to flee when I remembered the mix-up of names on the phone. I retreated back to the reception desk where luckily there wasn't a queue.

"Hi, sorry," I started to the female receptionist. "I was wondering if I could see my mother's records again, it's just, there was a mix-up and I wanted to see if I could straighten it out?"

"Oh yes, you must be Sam, we spoke on the phone." The young woman handed me an A4 piece of paper with my mother's details written out in the same bedraggled handwriting that was scribbled on her suicide note. And there it was:

**Name of contact in case of emergency: Leah Nicholls**

Our phone number followed and so did my curiosity. _I guess there's no point correcting this now._

"Thanks," I said as I handed back the record. I turned on my heel and walked quickly in the opposite direction towards the automatic doors.

My feet hit the familiar wooden floorboards of home and I immediately made my way to the kitchen and to the note. It was right where I left it, face down on the kitchen table. That's when I saw it. How had I missed that before? The familiar Celtic design that was neatly traced onto the back of the note with all its turns and tumbles. I knew I had seen it before and I knew exactly where it was.


	4. Chapter 4 The purpose of meaning

Hi everyone, hope you are all enjoying the updates. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed on here and on Twitter. You know who you are! This one is dedicated to you girls!

Keep them coming cause every review makes me smile.

**Chapter 4- Discovering the purpose of meaning**

My Mum's room was as boring as mine. I wasn't used to seeing it as I just assumed that it was always off limits to me. The only reason I knew that Celtic design was because I took refuge in there after Mum threw that glass at me. I ran my fingers over the large Celtic design that was engraved on my Mum's bottom drawer of her bedside table. _It is definitely the same_ I thought to myself as I took a quick glance back at the note. I clutched onto the cold metal handle of the drawer and pulled it lightly. The drawer was much heavier than I thought and required a lot more force to pull it out. It was full of scraps of paper and old photographs. I poured out the contents of the drawer and caught a glimpse of the impossible. I sat up and stared at the base of the now empty wooden drawer. Staring back at me were the words **'Leah's drawer'** written directly onto the drawer in thick purple crayon. That lump grew in my throat again, _how can this be here? _But it was what I found inside the drawer that really got my heart racing.

Birth certificates, medical records, details of operations and a death certificate now lay across my lap. I quickly skimmed over every piece of paper I could find. _It all makes sense now_. Leah was my sister and she had had leukaemia and died before I was born. _This was it;_ my_ life had been turned round in a matter of hours_. _My mum had died, I found her drugs and suicide note and now I discover I had a sister. _

I thought I had discovered everything when a crumbled medical document jumped out at me, only this time it was my name written at the top. _This wasn't a medical record at all, it was an e-mail._ _And I was the subject._

_**Re: Samantha Charlotte Nicholls**_

_**Dear Mr and Mrs Nicholls,**_

_**It is with great regret that I must inform you that the in vitro fertilisation has been unsuccessful. Although you managed to conceive baby Samantha, she wasn't the daughter we expected her to be. **_

_There it was again! Why do I keep hearing this over and over again? _I continued reading.

_**Her bone marrow is not compatible with Leah's and therefore we cannot proceed with the operation. I'm sorry to tell you that this was the last possible chance of survival for Leah. We shall meet and discuss the final options in due course. **_

_**My greatest apologies,**_

_**Dr Michael Harris **_

My stomach dropped through the carpet beneath me and I swear I heard it land onto the floorboards below. _I had been a test-tube baby, in order to save my sister and... I had failed to be a match. I couldn't even do the one thing I was designed for!_

"I'M USELESS." I screamed at the empty walls, as every piece of paper flew around me. The harsh sting of tears rippled down my cheeks and I touched my hand onto the purple crayon sketched onto the bottom of the drawer.

"I'm sorry Leah, I'm sorry you were put into a world that never fully appreciated you and I'm sorry..." I turned back to the suicide note. "...I'm sorry I wasn't the daughter I was expected to be."


	5. Chapter 5 Breaking Point

**Chapter 5- Breaking Point**  
I sat there for an eternity waiting for the plane crash of emotion to engulf me. Sadness, regret, guilt, loneliness and anger. The tears kept swimming down the lines of my face and then settling on my top lip. _Mum had clearly loved Leah more than me; I mean she committed suicide because I couldn't save her other daughter. That must've been the reason why Dad left as well. _I had had enough as I lay clutching for dear life onto my roots of my dirty blonde hair at the same time of praying I didn't pull it all out. I couldn't take this anymore.  
I searched around and grabbed the pen-knife from mum's desk twisting it in my fingers before I slit the cool blade against my wrist. The blood licked my arm as I stared at the wound. I swapped the blade to my other hand and wiped the tears from my eyes in order to get a better view. I gently placed the blade on the opposite wrist before sense was knocked into me. _Slitting my wrists is going to get me nowhere. _I unstrapped the bandage from around my forearm to reveal the large cut that had almost closed up. I placed the second-hand bandage across my slashed wrist to stop the bleeding. It stopped pretty quickly; luckily I hadn't damaged any of the important veins. I stood up quickly and an overwhelming dizziness set in and I grabbed onto the edge of the bed. It passed promptly and I was able to fully stand again. I stopped as a glimmer in the corner of my eye grabbed my attention. The room was a mess where I had thrown Leah's drawer around. But underneath a few old photos I found a thick woven friendship bracelet with 'Leah' beaded onto it. I tied it around my good wrist and kissed its rough fabric.  
"Goodnight sister." I whispered, my lips still touching the bracelet.  
It was useless trying to sleep, I knew that already. I headed back to my room, sat in the corner and cried myself out of existence. 


	6. Chapter 6 Back to Hell

Hi everyone  
I hope this story isn't getting too long-winded or boring. Hope to be finished by the next chapter or two. Thanks for all your comments, keep reviewing for me. Okay, so here we go. Quite an odd chapter but here it comes, enjoy amigos!

**Chapter 6- Back to hell**  
My alarm clock rang at 6:30am and I was still crouched in the corner of the room. My palms we damp from cradling my hot and tear-streamed face all night. Skipping school was out of the question today. I stood up, ignoring the light– headedness that occurred from standing up to quickly. I assume most people would adjust their routine after their mum had just died, but this house was empty even with two souls living in it. And so I made my way to school without making any effort with my hair or clothes.  
I had a double art period first thing in the morning; thankfully it wasn't anything that required my full attention. I sat alone as usual. I liked the fact that no one saw the silent tears start falling from eyes, not until she did.  
"Sam?" Miss Watkins came over and stood beside my shoulder. "Are you alright?" I don't think she ever got over the sight of a bruised and bloody version of the Sam she knew tucked away in a toilet cubicle yesterday.  
"Yeah," I began "Yeah I'm fine...just hay fever." I wiped my eyes and consequently my long sleeve slid up to reveal Leah's bracelet. _Shit.  
_"Sam, you know that jewellery is against school dress-code. Take it off please."  
I silently stared just below her eye line, the old medical records and photos flashed in my memory.  
"No." I said a fraction louder than a whisper. _Leah wasn't going to leave me again. _  
"Excuse me?" was her reply "Take it off. Now, Sam" She said making every syllable clear and concise. She became strict and saw me hesitate. Miss Watkins grew impatient and grabbed my wrist with the aim of taking Leah's bracelet off me.  
_Suddenly I wasn't in an art room anymore. I was at the top of the stairs two nights ago with my mum clutching my wrist. Silent insults dropped from her mouth before she let go of me and I fell backwards down each step. _  
My breathing deepened. I was back in the art room but I was looking into the face of my mum. An overwhelming anger flooded me and before I could stop myself, my arm was out, and I slapped her.  
"HOW COULD YOU DO THAT?!" I yelled "DUMP ME LIKE I WAS OUT OF FASHION?" There was no reply from my mother who seemed completely emotionless despite just being slapped by her own daughter. "I WAS JUST AS MUCH OF A DAUGHTER AS LEAH WAS. WHY DIDN'T YOU LOVE ME?" I was hysterically crying at this point trying to find the right words to say and how to say them.  
But at his point I awoke from my thoughts to find many horrified classmates staring at me and Miss Watkins clutching her cherry red cheek. _I didn't... I couldn't have... I would never attack a teacher... would I? It wasn't Miss Watkins who I slapped... it was my mum... I know it was.  
_ "I'm... I'm sorry...I'm sorry..." I stood frozen apart from my tumbling tears. The dizziness was beginning to return as I grabbed hold of the chair to keep me stable.  
"Come with me." Miss Watkins began to lead me out before saying "I'm calling your mother."  
_Oh god, this was it._

"...You can't..." I replied quietly.  
"And why not?" exclaimed Miss Watkins with her hands placed firmly on her hips.  
"...because... because SHE'S DEAD." It was such a release to finally say these words I couldn't help but scream them. _She was dead. She was dead. It couldn't have been her I was talking to a moment ago; it must have been Miss Watkins that I slapped. Oh god. _I let go of the chair and let the wave of emotion engulf me. The dizziness became unbearable and I just caught a glimpse of Miss Watkins's sadly shocked face before I fell into blackness.


	7. Chapter 7 Epiphany

Hello everyone, well, it's been a long time since I updated so I think it's about time I wrap this one up. Here are the final 2 chapters of this Fanfiction. Thanks again for all the comments.

**Chapter 7- Epiphany**

I woke up on the cold art room floor. My vision was blurred and my lungs were burning. Someone had taken off my jumper and undone the top two buttons of my blouse. I couldn't tell if my face was wet from the remains of many tears or sweat. I glanced over to the small-framed woman who was kneeling by my side. Miss Watkins's cheek was less red now and only slightly bruised. I joked to myself _'only minimal damage? Maybe someday I'll really know how to throw a punch.' _I suddenly became very claustrophobic and in one breath, Miss Watkins had helped me to sit up. In films, I always see people come out on unconsciousness and wonder 'where am I?' or 'what happened' but me? I knew exactly what had happened. It was trying to forget it that was the hard part.

It had become a habit of mine to sit for what felt like an age, only this time I was joined by Miss Watkins. I thought over my apology but before I could say anything, she beat me to the punch.

"Who's Leah?" She asked in a quiet tone. I became aware that Leah's bracelet was no longer on my wrist revealing the scars of last night's depression.

"Where is it?" I became agitated and stood from the floor. I instantly slumped onto my knees from the faintness that overcame me. Miss Watkins rushed over to me and knelt down on the floor.

"Like I said, it's against school rules and you had quite clearly stolen it. Why else would you be wearing a bracelet with the name Leah beaded onto it?"

"Perhaps if I had a sister I never knew about called Leah whose death was hidden by my dead mother. Maybe I happened to find a bracelet of hers in amongst all her things when I first discovered I was created to save her but didn't, ever think of that?" I was aware of my aggression but couldn't help but blurt out my feelings to the one woman I knew deep down I could trust.

The room fell silent as my dense words sunk to the floor.

"I noticed you slashed your wrist. Did you tell anyone you were self-harming" Miss Watkins said softly.

"Who was to tell?" I replied "Besides, I only did it the one time." I said as if that was a good thing. Miss Watkins handed back my bracelet.

"I shouldn't have taken this, not after what you just told me." Her soft hands took mine just as they had in the toilet cubicle. "You know you must stop this. We just want you to be the best you can be."

I was transported back to the hospital the day that mum died. The army poster with its slogan

**'Be the best you can be.'**

_She was right. _

"You're right." I whispered. I instinctively reached over to my bag which was lying under my chair. I fished inside it until I felt the small fat packets of heroin. I slowly removed them from my bag and handed them to Miss Watkins. Her face dropped.

"You haven't, have you? Please say you haven't." She pleaded sadly.

"Taken heroin? No. It was mums. She committed suicide yesterday." Miss Watkins gave me a sympathetic smile, I'm glad she didn't say 'sorry'. It wasn't her fault after all. She hugged me which I didn't think I needed or deserved. But I rested my head on her shoulder and closed my eyes. I darted back to the army poster and then to the old photographs of Leah and mum. I awoke from my hazy dream and then lifted my head directly in line with Miss Watkins's.

"You're right. I need to do something to show my significance in this world, even if I am a failed test-tube baby." I picked up my bag and stood slowly from the floor. I hugged Miss Watkins again.

"Thanks" I said "Thanks for everything." I let go of her arms "I hope this isn't goodbye."

"What do you mean, Sam?" She half laughed and half questioned. I walked out the door but not before saying:

"I'm going to be the best I can be" I turned before hesitating "Sorry about the slap." I added. She gave a light giggle as her eyes filled with tears.


	8. Chapter 8 Final Word

**Chapter 8- Final word**

That was the last time I saw Miss Lisa Watkins.  
I heard she now has a 4 month old baby girl called Leah Samantha Watkins. The name made me cry when I first heard it. I often wonder to myself if I'd recognise Miss Watkins now if I caught her in the supermarket or on the street.  
But I know I'd recognise her daughter. She'd be the girl wearing the fabric friendship bracelet with 'Leah' beaded onto it which was once found by a lonely teenage girl on a lonely Tuesday night.  
Her name was Samantha Charlotte Nicholls. Rumour has it she joined the army 2 years ago after leaving school at sixteen, god knows why.  
Apparently she met the love of her life there at the tender age of eighteen.  
Something tells me, she's still striving to be the best she can be.

_Sam x_


End file.
